


Fenrik Sturmfjordr, Dawnguard

by EndlessExplorer



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Background Relationships, Character Death, Death, Eventual Romance, F/M, Mages, Magic, Quests, Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Swords, Swords & Sorcery, Vampire Hunters, Vampire Slayer(s), Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-09-27 10:04:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20405929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndlessExplorer/pseuds/EndlessExplorer
Summary: Fenrik and Serana strive to work together and stop Harkon from fulfilling the prophecy of the Tyranny of the sun.---Basically a novelisation plus a little extra of my playthrough of Dawnguard DLC with my Nord Dovahkiin, Fenrik and the one character in the game I whic you could marry in-game, Serana.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to anyone reading this. I recently got Skyrim (Again!!) on nintendo switch and this is a story that I built in my head while playing. 
> 
> Basically a novelisation plus a little extra of my playthrough of Dawnguard DLC with my Nord Dovahkiin, Fenrik and the one character in the game I whic you could marry in-game, Serana.

His latest voyage into some draugr ridden ruin had left Fenrik bloodied, and sore. His restoration magic could sew his wounds closed, but what he really felt like was a warm bath to soothe his aching muscles.

“Legate Sturmfjordr, sir. Welcome back!”

Fenrik absently waved to the guard standing at the city gate. He removed his helm and sighed happily as the familiar cool air dried the beads of sweat hanging from his brow. Running a hand through his brunette locks, he sheathed his sword before tucking his helm under his arm.

“Thank you, Quaestor. Any news?”

“No sir. Legate Rikke has reported that Skyrim is slowly recovering from the chaos of Ulfric’s civil war. There are a still a few splinter groups all across the holds, but they are either being thrown into cells or brought before the sword. I’m starting to believe that the world is starting to get back on track and we have you to thank for that.”

After the defeat of Alduin, Fenrik had believed that his work was done. The Dovahkiin was no longer needed. He had saved the world, but Ulfric changed that when he attacked and attempted to lay siege to Whiterun. Jarl Balgruff had invited Fenrik to a dinner in his honour and the Stormcloaks attacked while they believed that everyone was merry and drunk. Fenrik didn’t want to get involved but seeing the death and destruction that the rebels had wrought, he knew that Ulfric had to be stopped. Fenrik was a true son of Skyrim, and he would defend it from madmen who would supposedly burn it to save it from cancerous outsiders. After he helped the Imperial army claim back the nine holds, and found a friend in one Legate Rikke, he marched into Windhelm, sword held high, chanting for peace in Skyrim. They stormed the Palace of Kings and Galmar was quickly dispatched by a swift sword across the throat. Ulfric had offered himself up as a martyr but Fenrik didn’t allow it. He wanted Ulfric to answer for all the death, pain, chaos, and turmoil that he had made his kinsman victim to. He wasn’t a martyr; he was a maniac.

After Ulfric’s defeat, word quickly spread throughout the nine holds of the Dragonborn that had quelled the civil war. Tullius had ordered him to visit barracks to increase morale, and he received invites to noble parties all throughout the province. In an effort to carve out his own quiet space, he had asked Jarl Elisif and her steward Falk to keep it quiet that he had decided to settle in the city but after a week of residing in Proudspire Manor, the cities nobles had figured it out and the peace was shattered. While he was used to the attention now and he was friends with a large number of the cities denizens, he was still at his happiest doing what he did best. Adventuring.

“It was nothing. I only did what anyone would have done and saved their home.”

Fenrik waved goodbye to the guard and walked into the city. Children ran up and welcomed the living legend back home and Fenrik smiled as the curious minds ran with question after question from the stories that they urged from his lips. Fenrik hadn’t ever found his life to be a terribly exciting one but he guessed that the open ocean or wildflowers could seem interesting to a child that had never set foot outside the city walls. A sweet smell peaked Fenrik’s interest as he travelled by the open market. It was early in the morning and the merchant’s desserts were still warm. Fenrik grabbed one and handed some Septims over. It was more than the dessert was worth but the one thing that Fenrik had in abundance over the course of his adventuring career, it was gold. He gave back to the people when he could.

In the corner of his eye, he spotted a shimmer. To one less experienced, it was easily mistaken for a trick of the mind, but Fenrik only just brought his sword up in time to spot the blow from cleaving his head in two. Steel clashed with Dragonbone and as a claw swung, hoping to meet flesh, Fenrik brought his leg up high and kicked his attacker back to make space between them. The illusion broke and he stared back into the blood crimson eyes of his attacker. A vampire.

Before Fenrik could bring his sword up to protect himself from the Altmer Vampire, two more seemed to step out of Oblivion itself and immediately went on the offensive. Imperial guards ran in to offer Fenrik help.

“Leave me be, Help the citizens!”

Fenrik usually put more faith in his armour and swordplay, but he also had a natural talent for magic, which he nurtured and matured with sometime spent at the College in Winterhold. Calling forth aid, a frost atronach grabbed the attention of two of the vampires while Fenrik focused on what he could tell was the leader. The vampire looked blood-starved and feral, which made it more unpredictable. Teeth bared and snarling, the vampire charged and Fenrik sidestepped with unnatural speed and slammed the pommel of his sword into the vampire’s head. Wanting the fight over, Fenrik took the opportunity as the vampire was dazed and taking his sword in both hands, he cleaved it’s head clean off it’s shoulders. Turning just in time to see his atronach fade back into oblivion, he was happily surprised to see Legate Rikke pulling her sword from a vampires disintegrating corpse.

“Trouble seems to follow you everywhere, Legate.”

“Unfortunately. Good to see you regardless Rikke.”

“You as well, Sturmfjordr”

Fenrik left Rikke to clear up after the vampire attack and went home. Hearing the lock click invited a sigh of relief from Fenrik as he was finally home and could relax. The feeling didn’t last long.

“I was wondering when you’d get here.”

In a similar display of speed from earlier, Fenrik had a dagger pressed against the throat of the stranger. He was well build, bald, and bearded. He also seemed to have seen his share of battles as his demeanour remained the same.

“Who are you and how did you get in here?”

“My name is Isran. As for how I got in here? Well Lockpicks aren’t just for those who stick to the shadows.”

“What are you doing here?”

“As you could tell from that little display in the market, the Vampires are getting bolder and are becoming a menace. I lead a group of Vampire hunters out of a fort near Riften. I’m offering a chance to join.”

“I’m in.”

Isran’s eyebrows lifted slightly before his normal look of indifference returned.

“I’ll be at the fort by Morndas next week. Now get out of my house, or by Ysmir, I won’t be able to be held accountable for my actions.”

Isran simply stood up and walked out without a word. Fenrik placed his sword on the rack by the door and threw his helm up on the dining room table. As he later lowered himself into the hot bath water, Fenrik came to the obvious truth.

“The Dovahkiin’s work is never over.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenrik delves deep within Dimhollow Crypt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone.
> 
> First off, thanks for reading! I've been in a bit of a rutt with my writing. Nothing ever seems good but I want to get something put together and put out. Finally, secondly, I will follow the main questline of the Dawnguard DLC but if anyone has any idea for a chapter that I could put in between, either a bit of comedy, satire, or a small misadventure, Please let me know. I'd love to hear anyones suggestions!

Fenrik guided his horse into the stables at Riften. Being Thane meant that he had his own private stable and the Horse-master eagerly grabbed Shadowmere’s reins from Fenrik’s outstretched hand. He hadn’t been happy when he found out that Astrid had sold him out to Maro in exchange for their lives but Shadowmere had been a close companion to him since she gifted him the horse. He rubbed Shadowmere who despite her intimidating demeanour gave an affectionate whinny in reply. Grabbing a small amount of trail mix from her saddlebag, Fenrik held out his hand for Shadowmere to eat.

“Be a good girl now Shadowmere. I won’t be long.” Thankfully Shadowmere obliged when the Horse-master tugged on her reins. It had been a messy affair, but the old Horse-master paid the ultimate price when he was too rough one day and Shadowmere sent him to the void with an almighty kick.

He had no idea how he never noticed it before, but just over the mountains to the North-East, Fenrik could spot what he assumed was Fort Dawnguard. He knew Isran was the leader of that merry little band of Vampire Hunters, and he gave the impression that he wasn’t used to being undermined but the world wasn’t ending right away. Ducking inside the city of Riften, Fenrik breathed deeply. The salt of the water, the honey from the Meadery, it was all ‘Riften’. He headed for the market. As he passed Maul, the mountain of Nordic muscle passed a small package into Fenrik’s hand.

“Maven sends her thanks for that other ‘job’. Said it’s good that the guild has it’s legs beneath itself again.”

Fenrik kept walking and finally bumped into Brynolf. The Nord’s strange accent could tug on many an ear, but after getting the know the guy, Fenrik was immune to his charismatic wiles. He threw the package to Brynolf, who caught it and examined it’s contents in the blink of an eye. Even from here, Fenrik could tell it was worth an Emperor’s ransom.

“Maven sends her regards; I have been told. I suppose we can expect more similar jobs in the future.”

“I’ll happily accept them. Nice work lad.”

“You’d think you would show your Guildmaster some respect, wouldn’t you Brynolf?”

“Aye lad, you would. However, I didn’t with Frey and you, and I are too close friends, so I won’t with you either.” Fenrik responded with a slight dig in the arm. “Send my regards down to the Flagon, will you?”

“And where is our illustrious leader off to now?”

“Vampire hunting.”

\---

Fenrik rubbed his forehead as Isran and some Vigilant of Stendarr started shouting at each other. He couldn’t even pay attention to them, simply letting his eyes fall on Agmaer. The boy couldn’t have seen more than 18 winters old and was standing there, signing up to join a band of vampire hunters. Fenrik could see the quiver in his hand and all he was holding was a torch. The boy would either get himself or someone else killed and just as Fenrik was about to suggest to Agmaer to go home to his family, Isran interrupted him by pointing a thick sausage like finger in his direction.

“You! You go to this, what was it? Dimhallow Crypt and find out what in oblivion these damn vampires want.”

Fenrik stood up without a word and slid his helm down over his head. As he left, he could hear Isran shout at Agmaer. “What are you doing here boy if you can’t hold a damn bow straight!”

\---

Dimhollow Crypt was full of vampires. At the entrance of the crypt, Fenrik almost fell over the corpse of the vigilant that was talking to Isran earlier. It was a rather chilling sight. His body looked like it had been drained of blood, a sick pale colour to his skin. His face made him look at peace while the sight of his neck torn out and his torn muscle and flesh looked like he had died in a lot of pain. Fenrik wasn’t overly religious but even he hoped that the gods took pity on the vigilant and eased his pain.

He lifted an unlit torch from its sconce on the wall and buried it deep within the smouldering coals in a nearby brazier. The pitch caught and soon he was surrounded by a dim light. Countless souls rested in these halls and many others throughout Skyrim. While his first encounter with a draugr in Bleak Falls Barrow did unnerve him slightly, the thought of fighting against ancient Nords, brought with it memories of stories told to him by his mother. However, travelling to Sovngarde to defeat Alduin, to battle alongside his forefathers was an experience unlike any other. Casting his gaze into a dark corridor, he continued.

If it wasn’t vampires, it was always spiders. Massive spiders that fought anything unfortunate enough to stumble upon their nests. Every Nord worth their salt knew about Skyrim’s Frostbite Spiders, but Fenrik always found someone who thought themselves daring enough to brave the creatures wrath. He had just watched as a Vampire had tried to fight one such creature. There was a slightly warped portcullis to protect him, but Fenrik took a sadistic pleasure watching the Vampire get killed. The spider seemed satisfied and went to return to it’s shelter but a rock fell behind Fenrik. In the silence of the cave, an entire company of drunken bards would have been quieter, and it came as no surprise when the creature slammed it’s way through the warped steel.

“FAAS RU MAAR!”

The creature stopped in it’s tracks and fled. There was no sense in harming a creature that was protecting it’s home. The vampires were the problem and the edge of his sword was the solution.

\---

Fenrik sat on a ledge as he watched a vigilant below him get tortured. Schemes and more schemes, it seemed to be very popular at the moment. Every whisper in the hallways spoke of a different ploy. Murder, deceit, subterfuge, nothing was off the table for these creatures.

“You will not break me, foul creature. Stendarr gives me the strength required to defend myself from your mind tricks!” Fenrik heard the slightest gasp as the vampire sent the vigilant to see his beloved Stendarr.

“What in oblivion do you expect us to do now?!”

“Don’t worry your little head about it, I’ll figure it out.”

Their voices faded off into the back of Fenrik’s mind as he took a cursory glance at the depth of the jump. He’d survived worse.

\---

Fenrik shook the remnants of the vampire off his blade before stepping into the centre of the cavern. Nothing stood out except for a single post in the centre. Common sense screamed in his mind to ignore it, to return to the fort and tell Isran that the crypt was simply just another dank hovel that some vampires had decided to find shelter in, but his interest was piqued. There were no sigils or markings carved into the post, just simple stone with a circular impression upon the top. He laid his hand upon it when suddenly a spike protruded from it, gouging his palm and drawing blood. Clutching his hand upon his chest, Fenrik grabbed a salve from his pack and poured it upon the wound. It stung like fire in his veins, but the salve soon did it’s work, the fire dulled to a barely noticeable throb. A purple flame crackled to life, sprouting up through the divisions in the floor. Fenrik took his sword from it’s sheath. One could never be too cautious and knowing old ruins such as these, anything could happen. Noticing braziers littered along the path of the flames, it took him a few seconds to figure out the puzzle. The ground beneath his feet rumbled and Fenrik braced himself for anything. The ground descended into steps and a monolith stood at the centre. With the barest nudge, the stone gave away and a woman fell into Fenrik’s arms, forcing him to drop his sword.

Fenrik quickly noticed two things. First, the woman was mystifyingly beautiful. Soft, porcelain skin and shoulder length raven hair. He could feel the power residing beneath the surface and it almost scared him. There was ever only one other woman like her. This woman was incredibly powerful, and time would tell if she would be another problem for the Dragonborn to solve. Second, his eyes fell upon the scroll on her back. Fenrik immediately recognized it as an Elder Scroll. As her eyelids opened to reveal two crimson orbs, almost like her soul itself was on fire, all Fenrik could think was;

“What in the Divines name have I gotten myself into now?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Fenrik discovers that not all vampires are blood thirsty monsters. Some are sarcastic, ice slinging, daughters of Coldharbour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> The story is slowly starting to take shape and I hope that people are enjoying it. A quick note, I will not be adding every little thing that happens throughout the DLC and will be omitting small events throughout. Such as long travels or when Isran sends you off to recruit Gunmar, Sorine, or Florentius. I will however put in smaller single-chapter pieces between chapters and if anyone has any ideas, please feel free to share.
> 
> Please leave a kudos as it helps keep the story going! As always, huge thank you for reading!

The vampire gracelessly hit the floor. Her hand reached out to beckon help but found nothing. Once the fog left her vision, she found only anger, fury, and the tip of a sword pointed directly above where her dead heart lay. The warrior standing above her was obviously a Nord, and the myriad of scars across his skin could tell of a thousand battles, but that was the least of her worries. Her magicka was low, body weak. One false move and it would be goodbye Serana.

“Give me the scroll!” The warriors tone of voice crackled with authority.

“I don’t know about you, but I was always taught to say hello.” A muscle tensed in the warriors jaw and he took his sword in two hands.

“I won’t ask again. The scroll, now.” The situation wasn’t going in her favour, but it was also a welcome change for Serana. She was used to being addressed with a certain degree of fear. Be it from people fearing the wrath of the vampire, or her servants fearing the wrath of their Lady, finding someone who looked at her without an ounce of fear or terror was nice. When that same person was a twitch away from impaling her like the evening hunt, the feeling wasn’t as nice. Serana watched as the warrior lifted his sword, primed to end her life with a single swing.

“I hope the gods are kind to you.” The sword began to fall and Serana braced for the strike, but it never came. Serana slowly opened her eyes and saw that the warrior seemed to be studying her. The sword was still raised for the kill, but as long as it stayed in the air, Serana was happy.

“Who are you?”

The question caught Serana off guard. It was an interesting question and one that she hadn’t ever really put a lot of thought into. Would she proclaim to the corners of this dank cavern that she is Lady Serana of the Volkihar Clan, Daughter of Coldharbour, powerful sorceress and alchemist, or simply Serana, pawn of Lord Harkon and Lady Valerica. As her thoughts swirled around in her head, a simple reply fell from her lips. “I’m sorry?”

“I’ve fought many vampires and they are all snarling beasts. Devoid of their humanity, they scratch and scream and howl until the very end. Yet, you appear to be afraid. Forgive me for saying so, but why?” Serana felt an anger began to bubble within her. This warrior decided on a stay of execution simply because she didn’t snarl and scratch like a cornered animal? He thought her strange simply because she feared death? The fire in her anger melted the ice from her bones and she felt better, stronger.

Fenrik found his feet leaving the ground and swung his blade out. The vampire stared at him with a smug grin as the frost atronach she summoned, easily lifted the Nordic Warrior from the ground. Fenrik grounded his teeth in frustration that he had been caught off guard. The great Dovahkiin dangling from the arm of a atronach… it would be a tale for the bards, but anyone brave enough to sing it would feel the wrath of the dragonborn. Fenrik watched as the vampire walked closer. He didn’t lie to himself earlier, she was a perfect rose in a frozen tundra, but this rose had poisoned thorns. If he wasn’t careful, it would be fatal.

“I didn’t ‘snarl’ or ‘shriek’ because I do fear death. I maybe undead but I wasn’t always a vampire. You may have always been privy to blood-starved vampires who would tear at their own flesh in their eagerness for blood, but I have lived with them nearly my entire life. I have seen dark things, done darker, but while I may not die to old age, illness, or other natural causes, as you so marvellously were about to show me, I can die to an over eager warrior with a blade that’s too heavy for him to carry. So yes, I do fear death and as the divines are my witness, if you lift that blade against me once more, I will give you a reason to fear the void.” Serana clicked her fingers and Fenrik hit the floor in a pile of armour plating. Lifting his hair from his eyes, he blinked when he saw an outstretched hand. Gingerly, Fenrik took a firm grasp of the vampire’s hand and with ease, she lifted him up from the ground.

As Fenrik readjusted his armour, the vampire spoke up. “I have a favour to ask you, oh brave saviour of mine.” Fenrik glanced up from his belt to see a wickedly sweet smile on the vampire’s face. “Would you please bring me home?”

“And where would that be?”

“Well before I was placed in here, my family lived in a castle off the coast of Hjallmarch. It’s near Solitude but not close enough that we have any uninvited guests.”

“I just so happen to be heading towards Solitude. If you want to tag along, be my guest. If not, well I just hope that we never meet on a battlefield.”

“I’ll tag along with you then. Never know when I might need a big strong warrior to protect me… I’m Serana by the way if introductions are to be made.”

Fenrik huffed. “Sturmfjordr.”

“Is that your first name? I mean I know my parents hate-“

“Fenrik. Fenrik Sturmfjordr.”

“All right then, lead on Fenrik Sturmfjordr.”

\--

Fenrik stared at the vampire sitting in front of him. She, or rather Serana, was strange. She had wrapped her cloak tightly around her, but her hand hung down over the edge of the dinghy into the murky waters below. There was the usual deep chill in the air, more now that they were out at sea. Even a mile or so off the coast and the cold was so bad that it could freeze a man solid, yet Fenrik felt an odd warmth when he was around her. He couldn’t wrap his head around it and he would go to see a healer once he got back to town but for now, he was focused on the task ahead of him.

Soon what little sunshine there was, was quenched by the overwhelming presence of Castle Volkihar. The Castle itself looked as dark as the creatures that called it home, almost like some sadistic Daedric prince had plucked it from one of their planes and deposited it here. It was an imposing sight that seemed to go on forever. How he had never noticed it until now, it boggled the mind.

“It seems just as malicious and devious as I remember it. I hope they remembered to water the flowers.” Fenrik couldn’t help but huff in amusement. “Oh, so our cold-hearted champion has a sense of humour. Who’d have thought?” Fenrik huffed again as he continued to row the boat closer to the shore. They soon hit land. Fenrik started up the bridge towards the entrance to the castle. “Fenrik? Could I speak to you a moment?” Fenrik stopped in his tracks. Since leaving Dimhollow, Serana had been nothing but helpful and supportive. A crack shot with an ice spear, she had ample opportunities to jam a spear in his back, but she hadn’t. She had deserved some small bit of civility from the Nordic Warrior, so for the first time since they had met, Fenrik’s voice was depraved of prejudice or malice.

“Are you alright Serana?” Fenrik watched an eyebrow arch just enough to show Serana’s surprise at his gentleness. It was a reaction that he was used to, most people didn’t expect the warrior to be soft-spoken but only a select few have ever had the opportunity of hearing it.

“Yeah… I’m fine, but I just wanted to warn you about my ‘family’. I’m not going to lie; you are about to walk into a den of vampires that are older than most families in Skyrim. They have watched ages come and go and I know that if your friends back in the Dawnguard so much as got their foot in the door, it would be a bloodbath. Please keep a level head inside and let me do the talking. I haven’t been home in centuries but we both have an idea on what we’ll find inside.” She had a point. Serana was the first vampire that Fenrik had met that he hadn’t immediately beheaded and everyone back in the fort was akin to that if not worse.

“In an offer of goodwill, I will keep my blade sheathed and my words clean. However, if I am attacked first, I will finish the fight.” Serana nodded her head solemnly. They walked up the bridge past rows of gargoyles. Stone skinned sentries sitting in wait to defend their vampiric masters. They had the misfortune of coming across one in Dimhollow. As Fenrik’s sword clashed with stone, it sent a violent tremor along the blade and shook his very skeleton. Sword and shield were traded for magic and hammer and the beast soon fell. The beasts had the element of surprise but thankfully they reached the gate without a problem and entered the court of Lord Harkon.

Harkon was intimidating and authoritative. He stood at the head of the tables, goblet in hand, full of either wine or blood; Fenrik had no idea. Human remains littered the tables like a merry feast and Fenrik grasped the hilt of his sword so tight that he was sure he had bent the hard steel. Serana’s icy demeanour and clear lack of patience with her father spoke volumes of their relationship and Fenrik found it oddly comforting that she stood by him rather than her father. Fenrik listened as Harkon droned on about power and watched in terror as he transformed. The sounds of cracking bones were harrowing and Fenrik urged himself to keep it together as a creature exploded out of Harkon. A true testament to the twisted and horrifying daedric prince Molag Bal, Fenrik laughed when Harkon offered him this power. The last thing that Fenrik remembered was how Harkon looked at him like a hunter eying it’s prey before he blacked out. Waking up drifting on the dinghy, Fenrik knew he had to get back to Isran and the Dawnguard with his newfound information.

Once he reached land again, Fenrik placed his fingers within his mouth and gave a shrill whistle. Almost like she had walked out of the fade itself, Shadowmere appeared and lovingly nudged Fenrik. “I need you to get me to Riften quick girl. It’s important.” Almost like she could understand him, Shadowmere took off across Skyrim’s frozen tundra towards its warmer southern lands.

There was a war coming and Fenrik had to get out ahead of the coming chaos.


End file.
